Ji-hye's a Different Breed After All
Morning sunlight streamed through the wide floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom on the second floor.
Jeong Su-jeong, nestled in my arms and sleeping like she owned the world, stirred with a sleepy rustle. She burrowed into my chest, rubbing her face against me like a little kid.
"Mmm... Oppa, good morning..."
"Sleep well? Aren't you on day shift today, Su-jeong-ssi? You're gonna be late."
At my words, she jolted awake and checked the time on her phone by the bedside.
"Oh shit! I gotta wash up and bolt!"
She scrambled naked into the bathroom in a panic. That girl is just too damn cute. She rushed out after a quick rinse, throwing on the jeans and thin cardigan she'd worn over yesterday. I walked her to the entrance, and she was still riding the afterglow of last night's sweet lovemaking—she stood on tiptoes and planted a flurry of kisses on my lips.
"Oppa, I'm off! Ji-hye unnie's coming tonight, right?"
"Yeah. It'll be tough, but hang in there today! Out of yesterday's 100 million, I wired you 5 million. Grab something tasty after work."
"No way, oppa! Half? What am I gonna do with that! Thank you. Love you, I'm going!"
The front door clicked shut, and I retreated back into the mansion's quiet embrace.
A little past 11 a.m., three massive moving trucks pulled into the spacious parking lot in front of the first-floor studio.
"Han Siwoo, right? Looks like a ton of old furniture to haul out. We'll set up the ladder truck."
The mansion's previous owner had left behind furniture that was all cold and modern—marble tables, metal display cabinets, sleek high-end sofas with that icy, rigid vibe.
Expensive as hell, sure, but not my style.
"Yeah, clear out everything from the second floor to the corner of the first for now. Set it all up with the new stuff."
The workers in their coveralls started hauling, sweat pouring off them.
In place of the cold pieces, the sturdy wooden furniture, vintage leather sofas, and antique-style cabinets I'd handpicked from stores over the past few days filled the space.
Su-jeong had nailed my taste perfectly: retro, antique, vintage.
Blended with the soft lighting, those old-school pieces turned the second-floor living space into something that fit me like a glove—perfect atmosphere at last.
Once the crew left, I stepped out onto the living room terrace and lit a cigarette.
Exhaling a long plume of smoke, I surveyed the revamped second floor.
Now it finally felt like a real success story, my true hideout. Sure, more interior tweaks were needed, but with massive revenue hitting my account and this flashy daily life...
But to keep it all mine, I had to shell out that insane 50 billion won monthly subscription to the app.
50 billion.
To cover that astronomical tax, I had to turn into a deranged trash director every night.
Whatever. In a world gone mad on dopamine, if I could rip the cash from them willingly, the fatigue of this double life was a sweet price.
And like I told Su-jeong yesterday? Not trashy shit—art from the shadows. Yeah. I was the guy who could weave sex and streaming voyeurism into art.
7:30 p.m.
The sun had set, darkness settling over the mansion, when the first-floor steel door creaked open cautiously.
"Oppa! I'm here!"
She must've come straight from work—crisp white blouse, knee-length H-line office skirt. In her hand, a bag from the nearby Japanese place with fancy sushi takeout.
Yang Ji-hye. Ordinary mid-level company section chief. Round, easygoing personality, loves looking after people—a textbook office worker. The kind of close younger sis who tossed casual banmal without a second thought.
But there was a faint tension in her eyes.
Probably because I'd been treating her like a whore or a rag even off-camera, using the streams as an excuse to dominate her.
I took a light breath inside and approached with the old, warm, friendly Han Si-woo smile locked in.
"Ooh, our Ji-hye finally made it. Subway must've been a nightmare at rush hour. Line 2 is the worst."
My soft, playful tone made her shoulders twitch.
"Uh... O-oppa...?"
"Why are you standing there like a dummy? Gimme the bag, it's heavy. Was starving anyway since I skipped dinner, and you bring sushi. Nice one."
I smoothly took the bag from her stiff hand and headed to the bar table.
Ji-hye followed, her face blank with total cognitive dissonance at this familiar, reliable, kind oppa from before.
We sat across at the table, unpacked the sushi, and cracked open a sake from the bar.
"Whoa, this from that spot near Hongdae we used to hit? Killer taste. How's work? Still slammed?"
At my casual question, she eyed me carefully, chopsticks poised.
"Eh... It's alright lately. But oppa... you're really back to the old you?"
Her tentative voice carried a subtle tremor. I let out a soft sigh and swallowed my sushi.
"Yeah, I went nuts with the streams and ended up treating you like trash even off-air. Sorry. Got blinded by the money and lost my head."
Her eyes widened at my frank apology.
I steered the mood a bit more serious. "Ji-hye, straight up—you've got that fiancé you're marrying next year. I get it, you've got vanity for the flashy,刺激 SNS life deep down, curiosity about that kind of play."
I put on my most understanding adult face.
"But a girl holding down a solid job like you doesn't need to feel guilty or suffer from the rough stuff with me. I won't force you to keep streaming, so if you want... we can end it here."
Perfect pretext, feigned sincerity.
I figured she'd relax inside, maybe mull going back to normal life.
And after this, with some smooth talking...
"What...? Quit...? Oppa, are you insane?"
Her soft, doe eyes sharpened in an instant.
The tension and wariness from moments ago vanished. Her face flushed red like a kid about to lose her favorite toy, she slammed down her chopsticks and shot to her feet.
"What the hell are you saying? Fiancé? That boring fuck who blows his load in under three minutes and snores like a pig? Like I'd feel guilty about him!"
"Uh...?"
She stormed around the table, plopped right onto my lap.
Her tight H-line skirt rode up, soft bare thigh grinding blatantly against my pants.
"Sure, it pissed me off sometimes when you treated me like a slut off-camera... but this setup is perfect!"
"Like I said, I just lost my—"
She cut me off, ignoring it completely.
"Treat me sweet like the old oppa during the day, then when we fuck, handle me like total trash. That's been my wet dream forever!"
Ah.
Right. Fuck.
My head spun like I'd taken a spike to the skull.
Yeah, that's Ji-hye. Under that normal facade, deep down she's a sex-crazed pervert starving for hardcore SM play. Smart enough to hide it so she doesn't wreck her career, that's all.
That's why she jumped me the second we reconnected—she'd been craving this sadistic shit with me for ages.
"I'll play the sweet, polite lil sis by day like you want! But at night... camera on, use me like an onahole or a cumdump however you please. Yeah? Don't toss me out, for real."
She ripped open her blouse buttons herself, panting like a bitch in heat.
She'd been thrilled with the taboo thrill, excitement, and cash from our SM and stream sex plays.
But seeing the fun, caring oppa back for daily life, only to turn into a psycho director in bed? That insane gap had smashed her masochist switch wide open.
"Please, oppa. When you grab my hair and call me a fucking slut, you have no idea how much my pussy gushes. Fiancé who? You're my real master."
"Haha..."
I let out a flustered chuckle and gripped her waist tight as she ground against my thigh.
Su-jeong's awakening as my first and business partner came from gaslighting, leverage, money shakes—trashy tactics, then back to love.
But Yang Ji-hye? Pure voluntary flesh slave, hooked on raw pleasure and extreme sadism.
Yesterday I bragged the world was dopamine-melted beyond the screen zombies.
But this upstanding office worker panting wet on my lap, begging to be treated like a dog—that was the real hardcore addict.
No need for excuses or bullshit. For this horny bitch, trash treatment was the ultimate reward.
"Haa..."
"We're keeping the streams, right oppa? I need your money and your cock. Yeah? I wanna live forever impaled on it."
Whiny vulgar pleas. Ji-hye... flawless business partner.
"Got it, got it! Get off first, dummy. What're you doing mid-meal?"
"Ah... sorry."
She flinched and slid back to her seat. But her revved-up body wouldn't calm—legs twisting, chopsticks fumbling, eyes flicking to me like a pup waiting for praise.
We polished off the sushi and drained the sake bottle clean.
"Haa, stuffed. That place really is tops for sushi."
I set down my chopsticks, shoved the empty sake aside, and stretched lightly. Ji-hye wiped her mouth and patted her belly in sync.
Peaceful, everyday dinner. Propping my chin, I eyed her lazily and tossed out a casual question.
"Alright, belly full— we doing a real stream tonight? If you're beat, crash and we can do it next time."
Her eyes lit up. She leaned over the table, voice thicker, stickier than before.
"Duh! You think I braved that hellish Line 2 just for sushi?"
"Then?"
"To get fucked by you. Harder than yesterday, camera on—punish this slut with your cock."
Flushed cheeks. Lust-glazed eyes. Crass lines begging for my male violence.
I smirked and rose slowly.
Switching off the 'kind oppa Han Si-woo' in my head.
Flipping on the bloodless, tearless 'shadow director' drowned in dopamine and capitalism.
My gaze, voice tone—even my breath—turned ice-cold, oppressive in seconds.
Staring down at her across the table, low and dry: "That so? Finished eating? Then crawl up to the second floor."
"Ah, hng...!"
Her body shivered like she'd been shocked at my frigid command.
This plunge from everyday bliss to hell—the psychotic gap soaked her pussy uncontrollably.
"Y-yes... yes, Master...!"
The streaming button on the floating app window blinked red at me.
Yeah. VVIP bros, show's on—your money-making time tonight.